


S.S. Endurance Week, Day 1: Scars

by WearingOutWinter



Category: Tomb Raider (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, S.S. Endurance Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearingOutWinter/pseuds/WearingOutWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the marks Yamatai leaves are easy to explain. Some are not. But they learn to deal with them all, sooner or later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S.S. Endurance Week, Day 1: Scars

The scars of Yamatai are simple, for the most part. Flesh torn by steel and stone, skin seared by fire and storm, ears that ring and bones that ache. All of it heals, beneath bandages and antiseptic and the balm of time. The scars fade, and if they don't disappear, they at least become familiar, even comfortable. They both take to short sleeves again, and learn to wear their marks like medals.

Even the less physical scars are softened slowly, the nightmares and the twitches and the glances over shoulders soothed and leavened by therapists and the warmth of each other's body in bed. These are the scars of Yamatai the island, and of Yamatai the battlefield, and Lara and Sam are able, slowly and haltingly, to leave them behind.

But Yamatai was not just a battlefield. Not just an island. It was a kingdom and a temple, devoted to a vengeful goddess of sun and storm. The marks they carry from her are higher and stranger than pale scars and dark dreams.

The first time they notice something is a few months after Yamatai, when a lazy Sunday afternoon turns heated and passionate. Afterwards, Lara goes to the kitchen for a drink while Sam stumbles lazily to the shower. She twists the taps without really thinking about it, and steps into the spray, sighing in satisfaction as the water cascades over her.

A minute later, she hears the door open, and the shower curtain is drawn back as Lara joins her. But with only one foot inside, Lara stumbles backwards with a very un-tomb-raider-like yelp.

“Bloody hell, Sam!”

Sam blinks, turning her back to the spray.

“Sweetie? What's wrong?”

Lara answers from the other side of the curtain.

“The water, Sam. It's freezing.”

“What? It's fine.”

The curtain rustles aside again to reveal Lara, staring at Sam as if she's taken leave of her senses.

“Sam, it's like ice. Check the taps.”

Huffing, Sam does. The hot water is barely on, the cold is open and flowing.

“I...” she begins as she adjusts the temperature to something a little less frigid.

“It felt fine to me,” she says weakly.

Lara steps into the shower with her and smiles.

“You know, Sam, people generally take cold showers after _not_ having sex.”

Sam grins and wraps her arms around Lara's neck.

“Well, I guess you warmed me up so much I didn't notice.”

But later, she remembers a ray of sun out of a storm-racked sky, and a long decent down an icy mountain, when despite a rough and ill-made dress, she felt nothing but warmth.

The second time they notice something is in a bar, a few weeks after the inexplicably icy shower. Lara was invited to guest lecture at UCL, and afterwards, for old time's sake, Sam drags her out to one of their college haunts. Lara's still not good with crowds, but they stake a claim to a couple of seats at the end of the bar furthest from the door, order drinks a little stronger than usual, and alternate between stealing sips and stealing kisses.

Trouble only finds them when Sam is on her way back from the bathroom, and finds her path blocked by a drunken college student.

“Girl,” he drawls, and Sam has never once heard anything worth listening to in that tone of voice.

“I would definitely remember meeting someone has hot as you. I'm Justin. And you are?”

“In a relationship,” Sam says as she slips past him, back to her seat by Lara. She hears footsteps behind her.

“C'mon, don't be a bitch.”

Lara sets her glass down on the bar. The small click as the glass meets the bartop somehow sounds like the crack of doom. She catches Sam's eyes as she turns and rises. Her eyes are hard as thunder, as bright as lightning.

“She's not interested, boy. Now fuck off.”

The drunk blinks for a moment before focusing on Lara.

“Who the fuck asked you? I was talking to—”

“I said:”

Lara's hand darts out and seizes him around the neck.

“Fuck.”

Her fingers tighten, and his eyes go wide.

“Off.”

Behind Lara, Sam can only gape as Lara lifts the drunk off his feet like she's Darth fucking Vader. And, okay, he's not exactly National Rugby League material, but he's easily six feet and two hundred pounds. His legs kick helplessly, and for just one frozen moment, Sam almost expects Lara to throw him through a wall. Instead, she shoves him backwards as she releases her grip. The bell above the door is already jangling in his wake as Lara turns back to the bar. The bartender is there, cleaning a glass with an unreadable expression. Lara coughs.

“Sorry.” Her eyes are soft and brown again.

The bartender shrugs.

“Don't be. He's in here three nights a week, usually, hitting on anything in a skirt.” He stows the glass under the bar. “Including Reg, once.”

Lara sits down again, and Sam squeezes her shoulder.

"How'd you manage that, if you don't mind my asking?"

The bartender 's voice is casual, but his eyes are searching.

"Cause she's a badass," Sam says lightly, kissing Lara's cheek.

Lara smiles, or tries to, and shrugs.

"It's a ju-jitsu thing. Using someone's strength or size against them."

"Ah, right." The bartender nods slowly. "That makes sense, I guess."

They leave not long after that. The cab ride is quiet, but once they're home Lara tells Sam about a man bigger than human beings are supposed to get. A captain of storms, clad in armor that must have weighed half a ton, who met any threat to his queen with overwhelming violence.

The strange things they notice after that are quieter, usually. Smaller. They learn that Sam can look into the sun without blinking or feeling pain. They notice that Lara doesn't get sick, not ever. In the park where Sam walks most afternoons, they notice that the path she takes is picked out in sunflowers.

It's after that they finally sit down to puzzle out what's going on. Well, Sam sprawls on the couch while Lara paces up and down the room, but that probably averages out to sitting down.

"So, it's Himiko, right?"

Sam's tossing an empty water bottle into the air and catching it before it hits her in the face.

"It must be." Lara chews on her lip. "But it doesn't feel like a curse, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. I mean, it's not like anything has hurt us."

"Right. More like the opposite. But that doesn't make any sense. We beat her. She's dead."

“Maybe she tried to curse us, but screwed it up when you shoved a torch through her?” Sam shakes her head as the words leave her mouth. “That doesn't sound right, does it?”

“No.” Lara rubs at her temples. “Because if that was it, why did anything change at all? Why are we… more, and not just the same as we were before?”

“Maybe…” Sam hesitates. “Maybe it's exactly what it looks like, then. Not a curse, a gift. A sign of respect.”

“I don't know, Sam.” Lara sighs. “I saw the history of her reign all over Yamatai. She was vicious. I don't think grudging respect for victorious enemies was in her vocabulary. She spent a lot of time trying to make sure she lived forever, and she didn't give a damn who got hurt in the process.”

“I remember, Lara. I edited that footage, remember?” Sam stands, and walks over to Lara, taking her hands in her own. “But that was before her last vessel killed herself.”

Lara frowns, but Sam continues.

“Think about how she spent those centuries between that and us showing up on the island. Trapped in a decaying body that couldn't quite die. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything except stare straight ahead and maybe listen to Mathias practice his sermons. I think, after all that, death might not seem so bad.” Sam rubs her thumbs across Lara's knuckles. “So maybe all this is just… a thank-you.”

“I...” Lara hesitates. “There were times, when I was climbing the mountain for the last time. Times when I couldn't see anyway to move forward, to reach the top. And then… the wind would pick up, or lightning would strike. And then there'd be a path. I thought Himiko was trying to kill me, but… do you really think she wanted to die, in the end?”

“Stuck on top of a mountain with no one but Solarii to listen to? I know I would.”

Lara chuckles briefly, but stops to give Sam a searching look.

“It sounds like you almost feel sorry for her.”

Sam pulls a face.

“I don't know if I'd go that far. She still sounds like an asshole. But, well: you can leap tall buildings in a single bound, and I'm gonna save a fortune on winter coats and sunglasses. I think we came out ahead, all things considered. If that means we ended up giving her what she wanted… I think I can live with that.”

Sam leans up and kisses Lara. When she pulls away, she's smiling.

“Besides, a very wise woman once taught me something about this kind of situation.”

Lara arches an eyebrow at her.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Sam grins. “There's nothing wrong with being hot chicks with superpowers.”


End file.
